Memento Mori
by JustShotMarvin
Summary: He's been looking for her for a long time. PostGame. Hinted DesmondxLucy.
1. She

**Memento Mori**  
by JustShotMarvin

**Author's Note:** Okay, this was inspired by my love of dicking around in _Assassin's Creed_, which I'm quite good at. Anyway, messing around in Damascus and suddenly one of my informers asks me something strange. (This is an approximation, because my memory sucks.)

_"Have you found Ada yet? No? Don't worry, my friend. You will find her some day."_

Has no one else noticed this? I know what I heard because after I failed that mission (fucking lepers), I went back to the informant and he said the same damn thing. Twice. Yes, I am inept at certain kinds of informer missions. The point here is that _Altair had a girlfriend. _Maybe. I say she's his girlfriend. Whatever. It's a good excuse to write a fic.

**Summary: "He's been looking for her for a long time." (Post-Game. Hinted DesmondxLucy.)**

**Disclaimer:**I do not own Assassin's Creed, Desmond, Altair, et al. If I did, there would be far more of Desmond and Altair without pants, let me assure you.

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_File 00  
She_

His heart-rate had spiked to dangerous levels.

_It couldn't have been her._

He was gasping for breath, like someone had just put their foot on his throat.

_What would she be doing here?_

"What the hell is happening, Ms. Stillman!?"

_It couldn't really be her. He'd been traveling too long, fighting too hard, his mind was playing tricks on him._

"I-I don't know! Something's gone wrong! I'm pulling him out!"

_He thought she was dead..._

"ADA!"

Lucy stumbled away from her console with slightly wide eyes. The moment the Animus' screen had pulled away from Desmond, the young man shot up with a shout, eyes wide, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He was agonizingly aware of the fact that he was shaking, badly, and his heart hurt like someone had just run a dull blade through it.

"D-Desmond?" Lucy squeaked out, just as surprised by the young man's outburst as he was. She took a slight step forward, fingers reaching out to touch at his shoulder. "Are you okay?" It took him a moment more to get his bearings righted and, for a moment, Lucy was certain he had no idea where he was. Then the memories returned to him and dark eyes peered over his shoulder. A weak smile hit his lips and Lucy seemed to immediately relax, hand slipping away from him.

"Yeah, Lucy... I... I'm fine," he murmured, running a hand over his dark, closely cropped hair.

"What the _hell_was that!?" Both turned to look at Warren Vidic, the older man absolutely livid at this turn of events. Desmond managed to smile, while Lucy just chewed on her lower lip, probably wondering the same thing as her boss. "What the hell did you do!?"

"Like I know? I don't remember anything!" Desmond bit back, rubbing at his forehead. "All I know is he started... freaking out." Lucy gave him a confused look, and the bartender shrugged some, looking down at his hands. It was hard to put into words. All he knew was that his ancestor, and by extension, Desmond, started to hurt everywhere. The thoughts running through Altair's mind had been frantic, panicked. For the first time, Desmond couldn't find any trace of his ancestor thinking about his mission.

"Well, Ms. Stillman? What did he do?" Vidic asked Lucy testily, tapping his foot on the floor. Fingernails clicked on the keyboard of her computer and, after a moment, Lucy fell silent. She just sort of stared at the computer, at the face staring back at her.

"He... Altair, I mean... He had a strong emotional response and it bled over to Desmond. I guess Desmond wasn't ready for such a reaction."

"No shit," Desmond muttered dryly, leaning back on his palms. His heart was still hammering away inside his chest. Dark eyes fell shut and he drew in a deep breath of air, trying to quell his tremors. He could almost feel the annoyance radiating off of Vidic, and somewhere in the back of his head, he wanted to thank his ancestor for giving him yet another way to bother the "good doctor." He opened his eyes just in time to see Vidic throw his hands into the air and storm off to the back of his room, falling back into his desk chair.

"Can we get back to what we were doing, _Ms. Stillman?" _Vidic barked from his seat, chin resting on his knuckles. Lucy rolled her blue eyes and spun around to face Vidic, nodding back to Desmond.

"Hold up one second, Warren. He almost has a heart attack and the first thing you want to do is throw him back in there!" Another agitated shout from Vidic that went ignored. As Lucy turned to look at "Subject 17," she smiled almost motherly, moving away from him. "Let me get you some water or something before we put you back in the Animus, all right?"

The young man gave a weak nod of his head, mouthing a quiet "thanks" to his only ally in this god forsaken place. There was the sound of her shoes tapping softly on the cold floors as she made her way to the break room, finally leaving Desmond to his thoughts. (Vidic was too busy being angry at him to bother Desmond right now, thank god.)

His eyes lifted from where they were staring a hole into the floor, to Lucy's computer. She had been looking over the memory a moment ago, hadn't she? A rough hand reached out and rest on the laptop, turning it to face himself. On the screen, the image paused, was a woman. Bright green eyes set into sun-kissed skin stared back at him from behind wild black hair. She was pretty--

_The most beautiful girl he'd ever seen._

Ugh. A hand reached up to press against his forehead. He was out of the Animus. Why couldn't Altair leave him alone? He shut the laptop abruptly, hiding the girl from him, and continued trying to force that buzz out of his head. Ever since he'd reached "full synchronization" with his long-dead ancestor, he'd been... seeing things. Hearing things.

"_I thought she was dead..."_

"Shut up, old man," he murmured, rubbing at his temples. He didn't want to hear these things, didn't want to think these things. If he did, then that meant he was going nuts, like "Subject 16" or whatever, and if he completely snapped then--

"Desmond?" He jerked out of his thoughts, eyes falling on Lucy's slim frame. She was staring at him, that worry and fear still written on her face, like she was afraid of the same thing as he was. "Are you sure you're okay? Maybe we should just call it quits for the day."

An annoyed snort from Vidic, who was sitting near his window, looking irritated. Desmond looked over his shoulder at the abrasive older man, rolling dark brown eyes. He gratefully took the glass of water Lucy handed him, taking a sip and grinning at her some.

"It's cool, Lucy," he murmured, shaking his head. "I'll be fine. Just give me a second." The young woman didn't look convinced, brow still knitted together some. After a moment more, though, she gave a weak sigh and strode away from him, moving to her computer. She quirked a brow when she saw the screen had been closed, opening it back up, staring at the woman looking back at her.

"Pretty girl," she found herself commenting absently.

"Her name's Ada."

Blue eyes looked over at the bartender sitting on the edge of the Animus. His eyes were distant, glazed over, like he was lost in his own head. Lucy bit the inside of her cheek, feeling herself shake a little at the sight in front of her. He seemed so far away, voice quiet and lacking the usual bite that usually filled Desmond's words.

"She's really... really important to him." His brow was twisted in thought, jaw clenching some.

"_I'd give anything to see her again."_

"Desmond...?"

He felt like he didn't have any control over what he was saying, but he_had_ to say it. If he didn't, then the thoughts were going to swallow him whole, crash down on him like a tidal wave, and he'd lose everything that made him who he was.

"He's been looking for her for a long time."

And that scared the hell out of him.

"Desmond--!"

The dark eyed young man jumped, snapping out of whatever trance he'd been pulled into, losing his grip on his glass as he did. There was a resounding crash that echoed through the testing room, jerking Vidic out of his brooding, the older man swearing up and down. He whirled on the two, his last nerve finally gone, standing from his desk chair.

"All right, that's enough. You've had your little break, Mr. Miles, now it's back to work!" he barked out, storming over to the Animus. A brow lifted at the glass on the floor and he gave an irritated sort of snort. "I trust one of you will be cleaning that up once we're done here today?" No response. They both seemed to have their minds on other things. "No matter. Ms. Stillman, get the Animus up and running."

"But... Warren..."

"Ms. Stillman, if you don't get this godforsaken machine online in the next minute, I'll get someone else in here and I doubt they'll be as sweet to our little test subject as you are. Is that clear?!" Lucy bristled with indignation, but managed to nod. Vidic gave a sigh, obviously having worked his anger out of his system, and smiled a shit-eating sort of grin Desmond's way. The young man was glaring at him hatefully, hands balled up at his sides.

"Now, now, don't look at me like that, Mr. Miles," Vidic chuckled, straightening his tie as he walked away from them. "We've still got much to do and I need you to be cooperative. So lie down, shut up, and let's get to work."

Desmond felt a snarl cross his lips, for once doing nothing to repress Altair's own murderous desires. However, Abstergo had the weapons and all Desmond had were his wits (and even those seemed to be failing him lately). With that in mind, he laid down on the table, watching the screen stretch in front of his eyes, the menus opening up above him.

"I'm gonna start you off a few minutes before you saw 'Ada,' okay Desmond? So you'll be ready for your ancestor's freak-out when he sees her," Lucy explained, her voice quieter than usual. Desmond gave a soft sigh, nodding a little as he listened to the sound of Lucy entering commands into the system.

"Ready?"

It didn't matter whether he was or not because a moment later, the whole word went white.

_**.tbc.**_  
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**Author's Note: **And so it begins. More Altair next chapter, and of course, Ada. I really like writing these characters, which is a first, honestly. I don't think I struggled with their characterizations at all. It all just kind of flowed. It was nice, actually! Drop a review and tell me if you think they're in character or what. See you next chapter!


	2. The Things You Lost

**Author's Note: **Damn, I can't believe I got such a fantastic amount of feedback for my story. You guys are fantastic, I hope you know. Thanks a bunch for the love and hey! Even the criticism! That's not something you see on very often. (Also, I'm really glad so many people knew what I was talking about when I mentioned Ada. Glad to see I'm not completely crazy.)

**Disclaimer:**Assassin's Creed and all associated characters are not my property. So please don't sue me, Ubisoft? Oh, and can you stop being dicks to EGM, too? Kthnx.

**----------**

_File 01  
The Things You Lost_

Few paid them very much mind as they maneuvered through the busy streets of Athens. Both kept their heads down, their eyes away from making contact with any one else, and spoke amongst themselves in hushed voices. The taller of the two wore all white and the weapons hanging off his frame clacked gently with every step he took. The other, slightly older, wore darker clothes, one sleeve tied in a knot where his arm should have been.

"I've a bad feeling about this, Malik," the one in white murmured, eyes scanning quickly across the crowds. "It all seems too easy." A look of distaste crossed the face of the older man, dark eyes glancing over to his comrade.

"I share your unease, Altair," he replied calmly, making note of where guards were positioned in the city along the way. They wore the colors of the Byzantine empire, watching over the city with careful eyes. Malik had no doubts that the Templars had gotten here first, and made the local Byzantine governor very aware of their presence. He sighed some and ran a hand over short, dark hair, looking skyward for a moment. "But there is little else we can do. This scholar knows where the Piece is and has agreed to lead us to it. Without his aid, we'd be turning over every stone for miles."

"So we should trust this man then?" A quiet laugh left the lips of the former leader of the Jerusalem bureau. He shook his head some and smiled over at his friend, only to see that typical stony face peering back at him.

"Of course not," he chuckled. "We trust no one but ourselves, especially when we are so far from home. No, we will not trust him but we shall follow him for as long as we can." Then he reached out and pat the younger of the two on the back, that grin never fading. One of them had to have a slight sense of humor.

"Now come. He's offered to feed us tonight and I'm not one to turn down a free meal." Altair gave his comrade a dry look, eyebrow barely lifted behind his hood. This earned him a roll of Malik's eyes, the man walking ahead of him. "One day, Altair, you'll crack a smile and when that day comes, I'll tell my grandchildren about it."

Of course, at the rate Altair was going, it was going to be a long time before Malik had anything to tell his family. Even in a place as beautiful as Athens, the man seemed to be uncaring of the whole affair. The ocean sprawled out in front of the white alabaster buildings did nothing to impress him, not even get a sound out of him. The former bureau leader was almost to the point of irritation.

When they were young, before they drifted apart, he had been a different person altogether. He would joke and laugh, just like the rest of the apprentices had, often the one executing whatever prank or plan Kadar would dream up. He had the quietest of feet, after all, and had little trouble sneaking behind the backs of their teachers. Even after they grew out of their trouble-making phase, the young assassin would join the others for drinks after they all returned from a mission. He was quiet, to be certain-- Altair had never been immensely talkative-- but he was still just as welcome in the tavern as any of the others they'd grown up with.

So the sudden change had caught many of his former friends off guard, leaving them wondering what had made him turn so cold. It had even confused Malik, at first. That is, until Kadar pointed out what-- or rather, who-- was missing from their friend's side. When the realization hit him, everything fell into place. Why he had drawn so deeply into himself, avoided his friends, spoke to no one. Why he seemed so bitter and angry, concealing it all with an arrogance so destructive, it ended with Kadar...

Malik shook himself out of his thoughts, reminding himself not to become too lost in his memories. It had taken so much for him to forgive Altair for what he allowed to happen to his little brother. But he was not the same person anymore, and Malik had to remind himself of that. He gave a soft sigh and turned his head some, noticing his friend still lingering behind him.

"You're being awfully slow today," he joked. There was no response. In fact, as he turned to face the master assassin, Malik realized he had stopped walking altogether. He stood in the middle of the street, body rigid... his face pale beneath his hood. "Altair? What is the matter?" Again, no response. Instead, Malik had to opt for following his friend's gaze.

Far down the stone street, unaware that she was being watched, was a young woman, chattering pleasantly with the vendor filling her basket with food. She couldn't have been much younger than they were. A pretty thing, short and slim figured, with messy black hair cut to her jaw. In the afternoon haze, her tanned skin almost glowed.

And Malik knew her.

"My god..."

They thought she was dead.

"Is that--?"

Finally, she felt their gaze on her, raising her head. It took her a moment of scanning the crowd, letting both assassins see her face, spattered with light freckles and a scar running along the bridge of her nose. Green eyes fell upon the two men at the end of the street, and he watched as recognition and then horror wrote its way across her face.

"Ada...?" It was the first time Malik had heard such a strong voice sound so shaky. He turned his head to look at the man in white beside him, having never seen the look on Altair's face until today. He was pale with disbelief, his hands shaking some. One foot went out, like he might move toward her.

Food forgotten, the girl at the end of the street turned, taking off down the streets like the devil himself was at her heels.

"Altair, wait!"

Too late. In a blur of white and red, the assassin took off down the street, feet hammering on the ground. It absently occurred to him that it was rare that he was actually pursuing someone, instead of being pursued. Any other time, the thought would have amused him.

"Ada!" She didn't stop. If anything, she moved faster. She'd always been faster than Altair, faster than any of them, always racing him through the streets of Musayaf when they were children. This time, she had the advantage of knowing the streets better than he did, even if she was in a dress.

Why was she running from him?

He pushed past a few people in his way, uncaring that he'd completely lost Malik a while ago. His boots slid on the dusty streets as he rounded a corner, rushing down a set of steps heading into an alleyway. She was already way ahead of him, at the end of the street. Her eyes were darting to and fro, looking for the right path. Before he could even call her name again, she sprinted to the left, momentarily lost from his sight. He swore sharply and rounded the corner, managing to stop just before he ran into someone. The woman gave a shout of indignation that went ignored as he rushed past her. The whole time he moved, he was looking over the crowds, trying to find some sign of her.

There. With a deep breath, he hurried after her again, mind racing almost as fast as his feet. She was supposed to be _dead, _dammit. Supposed to have drowned when the boat she was on sank. No body recovered. It was why he always asked about her, where ever he went, never really expecting anyone to know her. What was she doing in Greece?

Why was she _running from him?_

"ADA!" Another shout that went unheeded, watching the small figured woman run into a man in front of her. Apologies were shouted over her shoulder as she ran down another street. Not a moment later, Altair rushed past the baffled man, eyes focused on Ada's back. He was gaining on her. She knew the streets, but she was slower than she had been when they were young.

A sprint down yet another alley, this one devoid of people and draped in shadows, in a last ditch attempt to lose him.

So close. He reached out as he ran, jaw clenched some. Another burst of speed and his fingers brushed over the back of her dress. She had always been faster than he was, even when she had at a disadvantage. For a moment, he was certain he saw green eyes looking over her shoulder at him.

"_Heart rate accelerating again. Blood pressure rising. Desmond--!"_

It really was her. That was all he could think as she rushed ahead of him, out of the alley, into the sunlight once more. Even if she was faster than he was, Altair wasn't letting her get away. She couldn't slip through his fingers again.

"_Warren, we **have **to pull him out, this is going to **kill** him!"_

The bright light washed over him, his eyes focusing to the light. All in front of him was Athens' port district, stretched out for as far as his eyes could see. Alabaster buildings with red tiled roofs stood out against the brilliant blue. His eyes looked around, frantic, for the girl he had been chasing.

" _Warren,**please."**_

When he saw her, she was at the bottom of the sloped and cracked street, moving a little slower than before. She turned as she walked, just a little, just enough to look up at him. There was hurt and longing on that scarred and perfect face. That alone was enough to make him want to chase her again. He didn't want to lose her again.

"Mama!"

"_Desmond?"_

A child, a boy no older than five, was hurrying toward the woman, sandals slapping against the dusty roads. She jerked her gaze away from Altair, spinning around in a shuffle of her dress to look at the boy. With all the practice of any mother, she dropped down low and let him rush into waiting arms, immediately bringing him close. A grin crossed a freckled face when she pressed a kiss against his forehead, unaware that his mother had been running for her life just minutes earlier.

...his mother...

"_Warren, call the doctor, I'm pulling him out. ... I don't give a **shit** about what you think is important, Warren! You call the doctor**now!"**_

It was suddenly like Altair had never existed. She would not even turn her eyes his way. Bright green eyes were fixed upon the boy's small face, smiling at every inane thing he said. It was in the midst of this moment that another voice called her name. She looked up from talking to the boy, at an older man walking toward her. He was tall, clad mostly in black, and was smiling at her and the boy.

The picture perfect family.

"_Oh god, he's going into shock... this isn't happening..."_

Everything fell into place now. She was running from him because he wasn't even a factor in her life anymore. It was why she left Musayaf in the first place. She had found something better.

"_Desmond, wake up..."_

And she didn't need him any more.

"_...please..."_

_**.tbc.**_

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**Author's Notes:** Ending on a cliffhanger! I love this chapter. It was gloriously fun to write, honestly. Altair is so stupidly hard to keep in character though. I suppose that's why I stuck Malik in, so someone would be talking. Plus, I like writing for him. If you can't tell, he's not such a dick once he and Altair make amends. I figure he's got a real dry sense of humor, where the Damascus bureau leader is just, you know, insane.

_"I envy you, my friend! Well... not the horrible beating and the being stripped of your title, but I envy everything else!"_ Seriously, I love that guy.

Anyways, I'll see you guys in the next chapter!


	3. Dreams and Memories

**Author's Note: **Hey you guys! I'm back with the next chapter, and a resolution to that cliffhanger. I also come bearing gifts to my fellow AC Fic writers! Did the ending for Assassin's Creed baffle you in places, or are you having trouble finding out what all the crap on the walls and floors means?

Well, wonder no longer. I found a wonderful article that explains almost all of it, AND the emails on Vidic and Lucy's computers. (Which I missed during my first playthrough, actually.) Since sucks and won't let people link things from stories, just google "Assassin's Creed Ending." It should be the first link that comes up. Read, my friends! Arm yourselves with knowledge!

...I have always wanted to say that.

**Disclaimer:**Assassin's Creed is obviously not mine, or Desmond and Lucy would be making out at the end of the game. I swear. Ada is... kind of mine? But not really? Whatever.

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_File 02  
Dreams and Memories_

_He could still remember the first day he met her. She was so pathetically skinny, he wondered how she managed to stand. Tiny fingers clutched at the hem of her uncle's coat, dark eyes staring at him from behind shaggy hair. _

_His teacher had explained to him that the girl's father was the bureau leader for the Jerusalem branch. When it was discovered what her father was, their home was set on fire. By the time the other assassins in Jerusalem had gotten to their house, her parents were already long gone, and she was hiding under her bed, too afraid to run for safety. One of her father's friends managed to get her out before the roof collapsed, and within two days, she was being taken to Musayaf._

"_Her uncle is a good friend of mine," his teacher has explained. "And she knows no one in Musayaf. Perhaps you could extend a hand in friendship?"_

_For a moment, he had even entertained the idea. Until he saw her, that is. Make friends? With her? She looked like the next strong wind could snap her in half! Considering how rough he and his friends played, it was doubtful she would survive five minutes with them._

"_Say hello, my dear," her uncle instructed gently, but she remained silent. Just grabbed at the dark fabric of his clothes, stepping behind him. He sighed some, glancing over to the ten year old boy in front of him. "My apologies. She's not spoken a word since the fire."_

_"It is understandable," his teacher replied for him, smiling at the small girl some. "Why not let my student here show you around Musayaf? I'm sure it will ease some of your nerves to become acquainted with the village." This earned him a wary glance and her uncle sighed some, placing a hand on her back and pushing her forward slightly._

_"You're safe here, Ada. Don't worry." Teeth bit down on the inside of her cheek and she looked over at Altair. He managed to smile at her a little, albeit it was half-hearted at best._

_But it seemed enough to sway her and she walked toward him a little more, proving those skinny legs of hers actually could support her body weight. This seemed to delight her uncle and his teacher and they left the two of them to their own devices, discussing something about speaking with the Grand Master._

"_Well... come on," he muttered, starting down the dusty streets. She blinked and quickly tagged along behind him, tugging at the hem of her skirt as she walked. "So... your name is Ada, right?" A quick nod of her head, hair bobbing in every direction, still peering up at him with those big eyes. She really was a sad looking little creature, he thought absently. Like a lost puppy or something._

"_I'm Altair."_

_-----_

_You are Desmond._

_You've never met anyone named Ada._

_Get it together, remember where you're from, don't let these bastards turn you into another Subject 16._

He was from a small town in the middle of nowhere, Nevada; had lived there until he turned eighteen. His father's name was Aaron, his mother was Evelyn. His first memory... was... was...

"_They drained my soul and made it theirs."_

No. Stop it. First memory. Think, dammit.

His dad's knives! That's right. Being three and staring up at them, mounted on a wall, behind a locked glass case, wanting to touch them, not understanding how deadly they were.

Hazy memories of wrapping his fingers around the hilt of one of them, feeling the weight, listening to the silver resonate flashed through his head. It was like watching a movie on an old, warped tape and the film had been sitting in the sun too long. When did his dad finally teach him how to use them? When he was twelve? Thirteen? He couldn't remember any more.

Everything was going wrong. Everything had been wrong for a long time now, and it was getting worse.

And his head was fucking killing him. A low groan slipped past his lips, his tongue feeling dry, voice rough, like he hadn't spoken in days.

"Desmond?"

There was a voice he liked hearing. Despite the pain throbbing right behind his eyes, he felt himself smile some. It took a little work to will his brain to start functioning again, but once the cogs started spinning, he found the strength to creak open his eyes. The first thing he noticed was that he wasn't in the Animus, and then he realized he wasn't even in his little room. There was a gentle beep somewhere in the background, a needle in his wrist, and one of those cast-things clamped around his finger, monitoring his pulse.

"Oh, thank god," that voice breathed out again. Dark eyes looked away from the blinding fluorescent lights above him, focusing on the figure of the young woman sitting beside him. Strands of blonde hair had fallen out of her clip and now hung in wide, blue eyes.

"Hey you," he managed to rasp out. "Ya look like someone just died." That got a laugh out of her and she smacked his shoulder lightly. He grinned some, despite how tired he felt, watching her relax a little in the chair by his bed.

"Where am I?"

"The infirmary." Desmond absently wondered what kind of office building had an infirmary, but then he remembered where he was. "You had some kind of convulsion inside the Animus. I don't know why, but Altair's memories of that girl... It's hard to explain." She took in a deep sigh, rubbing at her forehead, like she didn't quite understand what was going on either.

"It's like those memories are dragging you deeper into Altair and his subconscious. We're supposed to just be watching what happened to him, like a movie, but you're getting into his head. Actually feeling his emotions and your own brain is trying to reject it. Kind of like your body rejecting an organ transplant, you know?"

Desmond looked almost sickened by this explanation, his eyes once more looking toward the ceiling. Just like earlier, he seemed to slip off into his own world for a moment, lost to her and anyone.

"So... what? My ancestor's getting into my head?"

"Just his emotions," Lucy replied, voice small, hands in her lap. "We've never had this happen before. In the past, subjects have reported being able to hear some of their ancestor's thoughts but never feel their emotions."

"I figured the old man didn't even _hav__e _emotions," he murmured to himself, eyes falling shut. Memories of Musayaf seemed to blur into memories of Nevada for a heartbeat. Lucy continued to watch him, watch him rest, watch the thoughts write their way across his brow. "It... it _hurts._

"What?"

"When he's around her," he murmured, eyes sliding open, just barely. His voice was so quiet, almost lifeless. "I can feel it everywhere. When he's near her, he just starts hurting." Lucy stared at him with slightly wide eyes, praying for the old Desmond to come back any moment now. To tell her that he was okay, that he was just joking with her.

That he wasn't falling to pieces.

"Desmond," she began quietly and he looked up at her, the clarity coming back to his face. "Are you... seeing things or hearing things? Things that... that aren't there?"

"You mean, am I going nuts?" he asked indignantly, back straightening up a little.

"N-no, that's not what I meant," she replied quickly, clutching at the hem of her skirt. That was exactly what she meant, and they both knew it. "Desmond, you have to tell me the truth. After what happened to you in the Animus... I just want you to be all right. You're reaching levels of synchronization that I've never seen before. I just want to see if it's having any more adverse effects on you."

"Like an experiment." His voice was sharp, accusing. He was angry. Angry with her for not helping him get out of here, angry with that damn machine for messing with his head, angry with his godforsaken ancestor for ruining _everything. "_Why? So you can make more notes on me? Find out my limits? Tell everything to Vidic, so that maniac and the bastards he works for can push me until what? I _snap _like the poor fucker who had the room before me!?"

Lucy stared back at him with wide blue eyes, gone completely still. She had never seen him so angry, never heard him yell like that.

"You... know about Subject 16?"

"Forgot to mention him, didn't you?" he hissed out, hands balled into fists. "What else are you not telling me about, Lucy? That my parents are dead and you're just telling me to 'have faith' to make me _extra_ compliant?"

"Desmond, I would never--!"

"Like hell you wouldn't! You lied to me at every turn! The only way I can get you to tell me about anything is to catch you in a lie! When are you going to come out and tell me the truth? After that machine **you** helped put me in has turned me into a vegetable?"

And then there was silence. Lucy had no response, just sat there and stared at the furious young man for what felt like forever. She felt like a gutted fish, just gaping and reaching for words that escaped her. How could she explain to him what she did? She couldn't tell him anything, not without jeopardizing her own mission. But he seemed so genuinely hurt by all the deception, and she was so tired of all these lies. They were the only allies the other had in all of Abstergo and she still couldn't help him.

"Desmond, I..."

Her phone went off. She cursed softly and pulled it out of her breast-pocket. It was from Warren. He probably wasn't done yelling at her for so blatantly disobeying him before.

"I... I'm sorry," she murmured, standing up quickly. "I've got to take this." The dark haired man gave an irritated sigh and looked away from her, staring up at the ceiling.

"Whatever."

The phone kept blaring out her ringtone as she strode toward the door, shoes clacking loudly on the tile floors. She looked over her shoulder once more at the young man. He was off in his own world again, thinking about God knew what, and she could have swore she saw fear behind his eyes. Fear of what was to come, what would happen to him.

It was the same things she was afraid of.

"Desmond?" No response. "I really am sorry."

As the door slid shut behind her, he could hear the familiar sound of the doors locking. He swore sharply and ran a hand over short, dark hair, wanting to just scream. _Good job, idiot, _a voice in the back of his head snapped at him. _Go and yell at the only person capable of saving your ass! Smart fucking plan!_

He gave a shuddering sigh, looking down at his hands. It was incredible how screwed he was. The only thing that kept Vidic from dragging him out back and putting one between his eyes was what his ancestor knew. And he had no idea what to do, how to escape... Anything. It was like sitting around and just waiting to die.

He leaned his head back into his pillow, eyes staring emptily up at the ceiling. If Abstergo didn't kill him, then these trips into the Animus would. Even now, any memories he tried to bring up felt hazy and dull. Summer trips to California with his friends, his first time in Vegas, the first time he got his ass kicked by a casino boss in Vegas for counting cards at the blackjack tables, the day he moved to the city to get away from what he used to be... All of those memories, and so many more, felt distorted and mixed in with memories of people who had been dead for centuries.

He really was losing it. His eyes closed and he finally gave in to how tired he was, sinking into the rather uncomfortable infirmary bed. All he wanted was to get out of here and go _home._

_If home is even still there, _he thought numbly as he finally slipped into sleep

_**.tbc.**_

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**Author's Notes: **More Altair and Ada next chapter, I promise. Poor Lucy can't win when Desmond's in a bad mood. But oh god, I wrote this chapter fast, huh? I really like this story right now, which makes it easier to write for. Next chapter should be out within a week or two, depending on the mood. Enjoy this one for now is all I can say. And look::points up:: Little Altair and Ada! Aren't they adorable?

Oh hey, I'm also putting together a soundtrack for the fic. (Recommended listening for when I'm typing and you're reading.) So far, I've only got two tracks and they're both from Matchbox 20 ("Bent" and "Downfall.") Send in your soundtrack ideas with your review! In a few chapters, I'll post a list of about ten-fifteen songs.

See you in the next chapter, folks!


	4. Of All the Places

**Author's Notes: **Hey all! I'm back with another chapter. Thanks to all of you who left such great reviews. I love small sections like this one, really. People are more willing to comment. I suppose it's because there's a lot less to process, you actually have time to sit down and read a fic, instead of jumping back and forth to a bunch.

Anyways, to thank you guys for being so wonderful, I'm going to try and start listing resources for my fellow AC fic writers on a regular basis. This time, the resource is ALL of the Assassin's Creed cutscenes on a single youtube account. This guy is really great, I watch his videos for fact checking all the time. His username is Knights0fProsperity! Go check him out!

**Disclaimer:**Assassin's Creed isn't mine. I've decided that the name/concept of Ada belongs to UbiSoft but this Ada is mine. Works for now, I suppose. Whatever, I don't really care. All I care about is if she's in subsequent games. (PROTIP: She better be, UbiSoft!)

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_File 03  
Of All the Places..._

"Well, it's good of you to finally join us again, Mr. Miles. Did you enjoy your 'time off?'"

It was the first thing he heard when he walked into the testing room for the first time in almost two days, escorted by two Abstergo goons in suits. Warren Vidic was typically unhappy with him, probably for setting the project back or something like that. Desmond just managed to smirk at the older man, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"What's with the sour face, Doc? You weren't worried about li'l ole' me? Not even a little bit?" he joked. Vidic let his own smarmy smile cross his aged face and he calmly strode away from the bartender, chuckling some.

"Oh, yes, I was worried, Mr. Miles," he mused in a poisonous tone. "I was worried I wouldn't be able put you out of my misery myself." Desmond rolled his dark eyes, letting Vidic have his tantrum for now. The man was incapable of having a good day unless he felt like he had verbally reamed him.

While Vidic continued to fume, Desmond let his gaze turn to the white and silver slab piece of machinery in front of him. The last thing he wanted was to lay on the Animus again, but he didn't have much of a choice. There was a gun at the back of his head and Vidic would willingly pull the trigger the first time Desmond refused. He rubbed at his forehead as he strode toward the machine, eyes focusing on the young woman at the computer next to the Animus.

He and Lucy hadn't spoken a word to each other since he had yelled at her in the infirmary. Even now, they wouldn't meet each others eyes. Desmond was too angry with her for not telling him anything, too ashamed of himself for yelling at her, to say a word to her. Instead, he merely sat on the edge of the Animus, delaying the moment when he laid down and Abstergo stole a little more of him.

"Is there any particular reason you're just dawdling about, Mr. Miles?" Vidic snapped from where he stood by the windows. Desmond glared over his shoulder at the good doctor, almost overcome with the desire to strangle the man with his bare hands. He had to settle for swinging his feet up on to the Animus and laying his head down. Instantly, his whole body felt cold as it synced with him, the fiber optic screen stretching over his eyes. Familiar white menus popped up in front of him and he let out a long, tired sigh.

"You ready, Desmond?" Lucy's voice chimed, quiet and distant. "Remember-- try to brace yourself if you see that girl again. It's worked before, maybe it can keep you from having another seizure, okay?"

"Yeah... I'll try to keep that in mind," he murmured, watching as the program began to load up. Then he tilted his head, just enough, to where he could barely see Lucy standing there. There was a sadness to her that he had never seen before. It was unsettling to see concern through the Animus' screen, where before there had only been cold, scientific interest.

"Thanks, Lucy."

And as she turned to look at him, seemingly surprised by his words, everything went white.

"Desmond...?"

-----

"Altair! There you are!"

Altair lifted his head to see Malik emerge from the alley, obviously winded and intensely annoyed with his friend. The assassin sat on a low wall, practically unmoved from where he had stood as he watched Ada walk away. His face was completely blank, just as it had been before he saw her. He had no idea how long he had been sitting there, lost in his own thoughts. When he last saw her, the skies had been the clearest blue. Now they were a deep orange as the sun sunk toward the horizon, obscured by heavy clouds in the distance. The wind had gotten cold, rustling their clothes whichever way it pleased.

"Did you manage to catch up with her?" No response. Altair merely pushed himself to his feet, starting down the crackled, stone streets. "...Well? Did you?"

"You know she has always been faster than us," he replied, voice dry. The older of the two scowled some at the assassin.

"Did you see which way she went, at least? Perhaps we can ask around to see if anyone kno--"

"It's not important, Malik," he suddenly snapped out, eyes narrowed at the former bureau leader of Jerusalem. The outburst caught him off guard. He had become so used to the emotionless wall that was Altair. Surprised or not, he let the topic alone for now, watching his comrade's back.

"We are not here to chase ghosts. We are here to find another Piece," Altair continued, his voice softer. It was as if he were trying to convince himself of this fact. He had merely gotten sidetracked for a moment, that was all. There was no point in running after her now.

"Of course," Malik murmured, not convinced, but doubting he could say much more to change his friend's mind. "According to the information Notaras sent, his house is down by the water. We are already late as it is. He probably thinks we are lost," he mused, striding past Altair, heading down the sloping road.

The two assassins did not speak for the rest of their walk through Athens. Both had too much on their minds and Altair's foul mood would not lift. He felt like a fool, chasing after her for so many years. Always questioning and hoping her name would turn up, someone would recognize her description. He had hoped, had prayed, that he would find her and she would have some reasonable explanation for disappearing the way she had.

But she had _left him. _Left him for another man, for another life. A better one than whatever he could have given her.

"There it is," Malik said, bringing him out of his thoughts. Brown eyes focused on a house sitting at the end of the street, decently large with vines spiraling up its white walls. From where he stood, Altair could see a walled garden behind the house and, beyond that, the vast expanse of the Mediterranean. One of the two torches attached to the walls burned, a symbol to the two assassins that the master of the house was in and they were welcome.

"He is just as suspicious of us as we are of him," Malik reminded as they walked past the open gates. "So try not to scare him too much." That earned him an unimpressed look that went ignored as he lifted a fist to knock at the door. No one seemed to respond at first, until there was the distinct sound of feet running down stairs. Altair and Malik exchanged curious glances, looking back to the house when they heard the sound of a door being unlocked. The door was pulled open, the old hinges creaking with resistance, and they found themselves looking at nothing.

"M'down here."

Their eyes lowered a good few feet and beheld a small boy, maybe five. He was short for his age with skin that spoke of many days playing by the water behind his house. Dark curls hung into warm, honey brown eyes that watched them with careful curiosity.

Altair felt his blood run cold at the sight of that face, realizing he had seen the boy before. _Wait. This boy is..._

"Uh..." Malik was clearly surprised by this, unaware that their guide had a child, but was quick to recover. A smile hit his face and he met the boy's eyes, leaning down a little. "Is your father in?"

"No, but my mama is here," he replied precociously, lips pursing some. Before Malik could say another word, the sound of feet on stairs came again, these a little heavier.

"Ari! Get back here right now!" a woman's voice called, obviously a little flustered. Both men at the front door straightened up some, knowing the voice calling for the child very well. A moment later, a young woman rounded the corner of the house, opening her mouth to call for him. The words died on her lips at the sight of the men standing in her doorway, fear crossing her scarred face.

"Ari, come here," she suddenly demanded in a far sharper voice. The child looked like someone had just run an electrical current through him, because he went stiff as a board. In a scramble of blue fabric and skinny legs, he had rushed over to his mother's side, tiny fists grabbing hold of her skirts. She said not another word to him. She was too busy staring at the assassins at her doorstep like Death himself had come to claim her.

"What are you two doing here?" she asked in a rough voice, pulling her son behind her legs. Malik was quick to lift his hand in a show of good intentions, a little unnerved by the murderous stare she had fixed upon them. He had never seen her so angry, or rather, he had never seen such anger directed at him.

"I could almost ask you the same thing," he replied slowly, watching her grip on the boy's shoulder tighten. "We mean no harm, Ada. We've come to speak with Eolus Notaras." Her brow creased at this and she swore sharply under her breath, looking down at the boy.

"Go to your room, Ari."

" But... Mama..."

"Ari. Go to your room _now." _And that voice left no room for arguing. He was quick to comply, turning and rushing off down the hall. As soon as he had gone, her posture straightened and she turned her gaze back to the men at her door. "So you are Eolus' benefactors then," she murmured lowly. Malik gave a slow nod, watching her shift her weight some. With a great deal of hesitation, he finally heard her murmur for them to come inside. Malik let out a sigh he'd obviously been holding in, moving inside quickly before they drew any more attention to themselves.

Altair, however, didn't move. He just watched her with careful eyes, wondering if she was going to slip away from him yet again. Part of his brain didn't want to believe she was even there, that he just wanted to see her again so badly that he was imagining things.

"Altair," she said his name slowly, like it was in another language that she had not spoken in years. Green eyes didn't meet his, they looked just past his shoulder. "You can come inside." It took a moment for the words to register in his brain, but he finally moved forward, shutting the door behind him. By the time he looked back to her, she had already turned and started down the halls, obviously expecting them to follow.

His eyes stayed fixed on her the entire time. It was like she had not changed at all. She still kept her hair short, hanging right beneath her jaw, and it was as typically messy as it had always been. She was still just as skinny as he remembered her, her slight figure lending itself well to the grace she moved with. It was almost surreal.

_No,_Altair thought absently, momentarily lost to his memories._ She's changed... _Her eyes were different. They were cold and hid too many secrets. When they were young, there had always been a warmth to her green gaze, even during missions. She had never been very guarded about her emotions, had always thought that hiding them and keeping them pent up like Altair wasn't healthy.

He almost smiled at the memory of her getting on to him about it.

"Eolus has been expecting you," he heard her explain quietly, pushing open another door. Inside was a large study, filled to the brim with books. They were scattered over two tables, and beneath them were notebooks, all covered in hastily scribblings of Greek. Sitting at one of these tables, book in hand, was the owner of the study. He was an older man, maybe in his fifties. His face had obviously seen a fight or ten, judging from the light scars on his jaw and forehead. In fact, the man seemed like he was built to walk on a battlefield, not in a library.

"Eolus, have you finally gone deaf?" she mocked with an absentminded sort of affection, walking over to him and plucking the book from his hands. "Your... benefactors are here." He finally seemed to stir from his reading, before turning to smile at the two men.

"Ah, my apologies. I tend to lose myself sometimes," he chuckled, pushing himself to his feet. He ran a hand through graying hair, smile faltering some when he noticed the disturbed look on Ada's face. They exchanged looks, with the young woman simply shaking her head, like everything was fine. Stormy blue eyes then turned to look at the two men, that smile returning.

"I am Eolus Notaras. I suppose you are Malik and..." A look to the man lingering near the door, who had not spoken a word since he set foot in the house. "Altair, correct?" This only garnered a nod and a grayed eyebrow lifted some, simply shrugging off the assassin's unsociable nature. Then he turned his attention back to Malik, shaking the man's hand.

"It's almost dark out. Were my directions so terrible?" he joked.

"I apologize for being late. We became... sidetracked on the way here," he explained with a slightly sheepish look, dark eyes flickering over to Ada's slim figure for a moment. She had strode away from the three men, placing herself near the window. Not out of any desire to give them their privacy, Malik suspected. She looked more like she wanted to be anywhere but here right now.

"Bah, it does not matter. You are here now!" Another wide grin from the older man, a large, rough hand patting Malik on the shoulder. "Ada, do you think there is enough food for these two? I would be a terrible host if I did not invite them to eat with us!" Ada grimaced at this, looking to her childhood friends like they were unwashed children dirtying her floors.

"I... suppose," she murmured hesitantly. Eolus ignored her bad mood, attributing it to chasing Ari around all day. "I'll go set the table for two mor--"

"I'll not be eating," a rough voice chimed from the back of the room. All eyes turned to look at Altair for a moment, and Malik could have swore he heard Ada give a sigh of relief.

"Well, then just one extra place it is then," Ada corrected as she slipped past the man in white, keeping her eyes on the floor the entire time. The moment she was gone, it seemed like a blanket of tension had been lifted from the room.

"You will have to excuse her," the scholar began, waving his hand some. "She is usually far more courteous than this, but she has been acting strangely all day." A slight shake of his head. "But no matter. Dinner should be ready by now. Are you sure you do not wish to join us, Altair?"

"I will have to decline," he replied, as courteous as he could be while Malik was glaring at him. "I thank you, though."

Their host for the evening gave him a curious look, but opted to merely brush it away for now. "Well, you are more than welcome to make yourself comfortable as long as you are here," Eolus explained. "We shall meet back here after dinner to discuss our... business."

They strode out of the study, leaving Eolus to lock it up as soon as they were out. "I don't want Ari getting into things he's not supposed too," the older man explained calmly. "When he was first learning to walk, I made the mistake of leaving the door open for him. I had no idea such a small boy was capable of such destruction," he laughed as he and Malik made their way to the dining hall, leaving Altair to himself for the first time in days.

He wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. All he wanted to do was talk to _her, _but at the same time, part of him was so mind-numbingly angry at her, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to actually say anything. He had spent so many years thinking she was gone, only to find her alive and well?

A sigh fought it's way out of him as he moved down the silent halls of the large house. The scent of food drifted through the air and, considering how he hadn't eaten since early this morning, he figured he would be hungry. Instead, all it did was make him want to get out of this house even more. It felt like he was being smothered by all the memories she had managed to conjure up.

So he was immensely grateful when he found the way to the garden behind the house. The smell of salt water washed over him, the sounds of waves snuffed out the sound of the dinner going on inside. The garden wasn't terribly large but was well cared for. A fountain sat in the middle of all of it, surrounded by flowers, the whole place guarded by high, stone walls.

He wondered if she brought the boy out here to play...

Christ, she was married. She had a son and she was _married. _

The assassin swore under his breath, pushing his hood off his head to run a gauntleted hand over short curls of hair. This all felt like some kind of nightmare. He felt like someone had just pulled the earth out from under his feet and he was clawing for something to grab hold of.

He had no idea how long he paced in the garden, trying to wrap his mind around everything. It must have been a while because the next time he looked up at the sky, the sun had disappeared completely behind the horizon. The moon had come up, blocked partially by the clouds hovering over Athens, casting the garden in a dull, gray light.

"Altair?"

Including the woman standing in the garden entrance. He froze at her voice and slowly turned to look at her, trying to mask his emotions as he always did. Green eyes stared back at him, nervous and worried, and she slowly started down the small set of steps leading down into the garden. For a moment, he forgot how angry he was with her. He felt like he was twenty again and she was still his, back in Musayaf.

And then he remembered he was still living in reality. She rubbed at her arms some, moving forward a little more but still keeping a safe distance. He couldn't understand why she was so afraid of him.

"I think we need to talk."

_**.tbc.**_

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**Author's Notes: **Guh, I hated this chapter. I'm so sorry, it gets better later on, I promise. I didn't mean for this one to be all boring and stuff, but I decided to separate this chapter from the one with all the exciting stuff. Next chapter will hopefully make it all better. This is just some introductory stuff, I guess is the best way to put it.

Keep sending in song ideas! I'm slowly putting together a half-way decent soundtrack. Thanks to Alyssa Raven for the song suggestion. I am now, officially, in love with that song.

See you next chapter!


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